


Window Pain

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Series: SLAUE [7]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Sexual Slavery, Soul Trauma, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 10:16:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11251089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: “I-if you want something,” Red says with only a slight hitch to his voice. Papyrus knows him well enough that the edge of anger is probably just there to cover up his fear. “You can j-just…say it. You don’t need to butter me up. I know what I’m here for.”Papyrus and Red have a chat about Red's soul issues. Red really ended up in the wrong house.





	Window Pain

Red is up on the second floor, his small body tucked against one of the windows as the light outside fades from the brilliant orange and rosy pink into the subdued colors of evening blue. Papyrus doesn’t mask his approach, but Red’s attention doesn’t shift from the outside. He stares out the window the way a drowning man might view a lifeline, and Papyrus wonders how many sunsets Red has missed since he entered captivity.

He takes a spot on the other side of the window-seat, stretching out one of his long legs until it’s nestled companionably along Red’s folded knees. Red doesn’t shift away from the touch, which is a start at least. Papyrus digs through his pockets. “Wanna smoke?”

Red’s eyelights flick towards him, his expression blatantly suspicious until Papyrus lights one up, takes a deep, satisfying drag, and then offers the smouldering stick in Red’s direction. Red’s hesitation is brief and swiftly crushed. “Fuck yes.”

He takes it from Papyrus with a hand that jitters only slightly, and the taller skeleton grins, lighting up a second one for himself.

“I had a feeling,” he remarks conversationally, smiling. He likes to think he still has a good read on people. “You have the look of someone who kicked the habit.” 

“Three years ago,” Red agrees, taking a shaking drag, holding it, and then visibly breathing out some of his tension along with the smoke. “Don’t know why I bothered. S'not like I’ve got lungs to ruin.”

“I’ve thought about it,” Papyrus admits. “Blue hates the smell, but…well, I’d probably go nuts without them. ‘Sides, I like to keep my hands busy.”

That prompts Red to give his hands a slightly wary look – understandable, given the kinds of reactions Papyrus has pulled from him with them. Noticing, Papyrus’s sockets become hooded, and he crooks a finger at the smaller skeleton. “Come here.”

Red’s toothy maw thins in clear reluctance, but after a moment he bites down on the cigarette to hold it in place and shuffles forward in small, grudging increments. At Papyrus’s insistent gestures, Red crawls to sit between the other skeleton’s legs, facing outwards so his shoulder blades are pressed to Papyrus’s ribs. His posture has lost its haggard slouch, now stiff with tension.

Papyrus doesn’t move immediately, just waiting for Red to get used to the new contact. They smoke in a silence that slowly grows comfortable. Papyrus cracks one of the window panes, letting in a narrow breeze of fresh air and allowing both of them to flick ash outside. Red burns through his quickly, and without a word Papyrus lights him up another and lets him have it. Red takes it with a muttered thanks, his body slowly going lax until he’s leaning back on Papyrus’s chest in an approximation of contentment.

He still jolts when Papyrus casually places a hand on one of his illiac crests, breath catching audibly. Papyrus frowns, gently stroking the bone, trying to soothe. Red starts quivering a little.

“I-if you want something,” Red says with only a slight hitch to his voice. Papyrus knows him well enough that the edge of anger is probably just there to cover up his fear. “You can j-just…say it. You don’t need to butter me up. I know what I’m here for.”

Papyrus removes his hand, thinking. Red squirms in his lap, cigarette forgotten as he presses a hand to his sternum, visibly straining to keep his soul in check. Papyrus can practically feel the pulse of it trying to break out into the open.

“I’m trying to figure out what your trigger is,” he admits, gently taking back Red’s cigarette before he can accidentally burn himself with it, or set something on fire. “So we can stop that from happening. But…”

He shrugs expansively, stumped, and Red hunches further, shoulders slumping in discomfort.

It’s a mystery Papyrus has been working on since the moment Red was brought home. True, he’s never met another monster with Red’s affliction and he only knows the theory behind it, but he’s still convinced that there must be something tangible that’s setting Red off to make his soul appear as frequently and effusively as it does. He knows it’s exhausting for the little skeleton, and frankly Papyrus isn’t very comfortable with it either – not the way Chara eyes Red’s soul with undisguised hunger, and not the way it makes Papyrus feel far more than he wants to whenever it appears.

He’s been keeping a mental list of all the instances where it’s happened, trying to find a common denominator to avoid, but frankly Red doesn’t react how he expects at least half the time. Watching Papyrus disciplining Edge will make it appear almost immediately, but being watched himself by Chara and Papyrus while masturbating won’t. A casual pat on the head by Papyrus will give Red visible pause, but a clinging hug from Blue won’t. The trigger isn’t sex, or at least not just sex, since most forms of touching seem to induce it, but there’s also plenty of instances where Papyrus would have expected a reaction only for Red to disappoint him.

There should be something – some specific act or emotion to explain what’s making Red react so strongly and regularly, but frankly Papyrus can’t figure it out.

Red folds his knees up under his chin and lets out a short, bitter huff of self-deprecating amusement. “You wanna know what it is?”

Papyrus blinks. He hasn’t actually expected Red to be willing to tell him, assuming he even knows. Given the amount of trouble it causes him, Papyrus would have thought that if Red knew for himself what was causing it, he’d have made some visible effort to avoid it, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Papyrus hasn’t seen any evidence of that, and he’s been watching closely for it. “Sure.”

Red hugs his legs tightly to his chest, seeming to struggle to actually go through with the revelation or perhaps just to put it into words. Papyrus gives him time, concentrating on keeping his hands to himself even though there’s a strong temptation to put his arms around Red in comfort. Red is similar in size and shape to Blue, which doesn’t help his instinctive compulsion.

“It’s 'cos you’re a skeleton,” Red finally says after a significant pause.

It’s definitely not the answer Papyrus would have expected. “What?”

Red doesn’t elaborate, choosing to scowl silently and stare out the window again. Papyrus can see the ghost of his reflection in the glass, his expression betraying a complicated mixture of shame and indignation and pain and weariness, all too apparent for it to have been a false statement.

Papyrus thinks about it…and then can’t help but splutter a laugh of stunned realisation and no small amount of consternation. “Geeze. You really ended up in the wrong house.”

“I fucking _know_ ,” Red grumbles, and actually elbows Papyrus in the ribs when the taller skeleton only laughs harder because of _all the possible things_ it could have been…

No wonder Red hasn’t been able to avoid it. He can’t. Chara’s bizarre insistence on a skeleton harem makes that impossible, and now that Papyrus has the right context he can sort of see the pattern. Red’s clearly terrified of Chara, but despite that strong emotional response, most of the time the small human’s touch doesn’t seem to affect Red the same way Papyrus’s does even though he’s clearly more comfortable around the latter. Edge hasn’t earned the privilege of being able to wear clothing, so his nakedness is much more confronting, whereas Blue tends to wear lots of layers that give the impression of padding on his small frame. Blue also wears gloves, so there’s less bone-on-bone contact whenever he touches anyone. Apparently that makes all the difference.

“But how…” Papyrus begins, then pauses, brow furrowed in thought. “Uh…”

“What?” Red asks warily, sockets narrowed.

Papyrus takes a long drag on his cigarette before flicking its remains out the window. “You don’t have to answer this, I’m just thinking aloud. Was it…another skeleton who kept bringing your soul out until it became like this?”

 

Red’s expression shuts down, and as expected he doesn’t answer the question, but the explanation makes a disturbing amount of sense and Papyrus trusts his instincts enough to believe he isn’t far off the mark.

“Well, never mind,” Papyrus says with convincing nonchalance, and without warning scoops Red up and moves to stand, lifting the other’s slight weight easily. Red yelps, clinging fiercely as if expecting to be dropped, legs kicking in distress until Papyrus adjusts his hold into a more conventional bridal carry.

“What the fuck?” Red snaps, looking displeased, but also more nervous than annoyed.

“Now that you’ve told me…you said if I wanted something, I should just ask, right?” Papyrus leers, amused at Red’s discomfort, but he was careful to keep his hold in places where their clothing padded the contact. “So I want to see if I can fuck you without making your soul come out.”

Red snorts, fidgeting uneasily in the hold, but not putting up much of a struggle. “Shit, you’re such a fucking romantic, how the hell could I say no?”

Papyrus laughs. He prefers it when Red is sarcastic and disgruntled as opposed to when he’s stuttery and unsure. Strangely, it feels like a sign of trust.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you,” Papyrus coos, having to dodge when Red retaliates with an attempt to smack him upside the skull.


End file.
